


little moth

by tal_5



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Abuse, Accidents, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Car Accidents, Character Death, Character Death Fix, Child Neglect, Death, Developing Friendships, Dysfunctional Family, Epic Friendship, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Neglect, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:15:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23148364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tal_5/pseuds/tal_5
Summary: Virgil’s best friend has been dying for the past two years and he is the only one who can save him, but when a stranger catches him after his friend’s seven hundred and thirty-first death, he begins to question what he can do after two years.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, only implied logicality
Comments: 10
Kudos: 23





	1. it's gonna be hard (some things we cannot fix)

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: major character death, death, murder, traffic accidents, train accidents, blood, implied decapitation, insects, strong language/swearing, fighting, parents fighting, abusive parents (more neglectful, depression, and anxiety
> 
> be careful, y'all

Cloudy and dilated, eyes of gingerbread and vanilla stared blankly up at the sky above. Though, ‘staring’ was a rather inaccurate description, considering those eyes belonged to Patton Davies.

Strawberry blonde locks rested on the rough concrete, haphazardly splayed around Patton’s face and almost copying the soft changing of the leaves flapping around wildly on the trees surrounding him. His chin was tilted backwards, resting slightly to the right as if to hide from the metal debris lying beside him, as if trying not to choke on the thick smoke billowing down the street. And although his jaw was slack and looked as if it was hanging on by a thread, he successfully managed not to breathe it in. The damson matting his hair and dripping down his chin was enough for Virgil.

He had failed again.

How many times was he going to be mocked with that scene? The constant torture, like a child tearing the legs off a spider, and hearing that spine-curling scratchy pop as the terrified creature flails and bleeds, unable to even scream. Or, if it could, the child would never be able to hear it.

One leg. Two legs. Three legs.

His first failure down the road from his and Patton’s college, as coins crashed to the pavement and a choked gasp became a precursor to the layer of red seeping through Patton’s blue sweater. The sirens. Red. Blue. Red and blue. Wails that scorched his already parched throat as guilty blue eyes, barely visible under a pale blue bouffant cap, watched him crumple like a broken doll down to the cold floor. 

The second time, he’d hugged Patton too ferociously for too long. They stumbled. He fell. Scarlet pooled beneath his limp body. Virgil threw up his lunch.

Time after time, he would try to prevent his best friend’s gruesome fate, to keep his heart pumping the purest red and to keep his eyes overshadowing the bright sun. But every time, every fucking time, that sun would suddenly be blocked and that nauseating crimson would spread onto any surface it could reach. It stained, leaving Virgil to give his parents half-assed excuses he knew they’d believe and to go back. He’d barely even give himself time to process everything.

He wasn’t even startled by the sight of Patton’s blood anymore.

No matter how much of it there was, buckets or a drop, he’d simply sigh and go back. Even with his best friend lying brokenly in the middle of the road, he followed routine for the seven hundred and thirtieth time, heading back to where it always started. His bedroom.

The dark walls that only served to drive that emptiness further into his skin until even the abrupt screaming downstairs failed to surprise him. Painful cries of resentment and regret echoed through the house, bouncing off of each wall in the living room, up into the staircase, crashing and swaying down the hallway like a drunken sailor, and under the gap of his bedroom door. He huffed quietly, almost afraid his parents would hear him, before sitting up in his bed and pulling off the covers to meet Patton at the train station.

 _‘How long has it been since I’ve been to college?’_ He wondered as he carefully padded down the stairs, silently criticising the baby blue pattern mixed with a dark crimson red. His parents clearly had no good sense of interior design. Not that he would ever tell them as such.

He supposed it didn’t really matter how long he’d been away from college at that point; if things continued on the same way, it didn’t seem as if he’d ever be going back full-time.

_“I’m so sick of your shit, you bastard!”_

Virgil paused for a moment. There was no point in getting involved, he still had nightmares about the few times he did. His father was sitting down at the dining room table, rubbing his temples with his index and middle fingers, and shaking his head softly while his mother screamed about his ‘obvious affair’. “You’re such a fucking liar! Are you really trying to tell me that you’re staying out until god knows what time in the morning just to ‘hang out’ with some ‘friends’? Bull. Shit!”

Without warning, his father threw himself up out of his seat and leaned in close to his mother’s face, expression twisted into something unrecognisable. Something so full of misery and cruelty that even God would feel ashamed of what they had created. “You want to know why I stay out so late?” His voice was ground up in raw lemon juice and ghost peppers, reddening his face until Virgil couldn’t bear to look at it anymore. “Because I’m _sick_ and tired of hearing your damn voice nagging me all the time. Blaming me for shit I don’t do. Just being a complete fucking _bitch!_ ”

“Don’t you fucking disrespect me!”

“Disrespect _you_? Are you kidding me?!”

“You just called me a bitch! That’s so fucking disrespectful, you’re just like your dad!”

His father slammed his fist into the wall. Virgil hurried out the door.

* * *

The streets were speckled with passersby as they, again, headed off to wherever they’d been planning to go on the 18th of August. Though Virgil couldn’t be sure what day it would’ve been if he hadn’t discovered his time travelling and warping ability the day that Patton first died. Sometime in September, probably.

Keeping his head down, he shucked his dark hood over his head and only looked up if he absolutely had to, having already memorised a path between the people making their way around from his countless attempts at saving Patton’s life. And honestly, he didn’t know what he was going to do this time. How was he going to prevent the seemingly inevitable _this_ time?

Well, it would probably depend on the danger Patton got himself into.

Traffic accidents, stabbings, muggings, falling; Patton had already died so many ways, it was becoming difficult for Virgil to keep track. He sometimes wondered if those who had witnessed Patton get struck by that car remembered anything. _Anything_.

But then they’d question a lot of things, including Virgil, and he simply couldn’t handle something like that. Witnessing his friend die so many times was bad enough. Because, although he had become numb to it, it still stuck with him. Those images hit him when he least expected it, though, he supposed he should have started expecting it after the hundredth time he’d woken up in a pool of sweat and tears. Turned out his unconscious self was less numb to it than his conscious self. Huh.

For the seven hundred and thirtieth time (he’d been counting), he headed to the train station where he was certain his best friend and brother was waiting for him. They weren’t blood-related, of course, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t Virgil’s family.

The streets around him were scattered with early-birds (disgusting creatures) hurrying off to meet friends for breakfast, catch the first bus to work or school, and simply enjoy the humming of the more-or-less empty air. His footsteps sounded softly against the heated asphalt as bright colourless rays of sunlight warmed it up, almost as if from the inside out, though he knew better than that. Science-y stuff and darkness absorbing warmth and all that.

It seemed ironic but fitting for Patton to die on a day such as that; sunny and clear, but darkening and clouding up by the end. If he were some sort of poet or songwriter, he’d probably write about the symbolism of the world losing its light just as it lost Patton. But he didn’t like to think about that. He liked to think about strategies, different ways he could prevent the world of losing that goofy embodiment of honeysuckle and _goodness_. Just… Just everything good in the world rolled up and neatly packed inside of one beautiful human being.

But he didn’t like to think about that either.

“Virgil, over here!” Right on schedule.

He lifted his wrist, looking down at the old watch his father had bought for him years and years ago to check the time, quarter past eight, and earlier than yesterday. So, earlier than schedule, _even better_. Like he’d been doing for the past two years, he waved and somehow felt hollower at the beaming grin he received in response. He couldn’t act suspicious and despite the fact that he’d been following the same routine (with the odd change in many attempts to save Patton’s life) for two years exactly, the lying and pretending was still the most difficult thing to get right. You know, other than the last seven hundred and thirty failures at saving his best friend’s life.

Long arms roped around his waist — though they weren’t really that long, he was just short — and he reached up to hold onto his brother’s neck as tightly as he could for only a few seconds before letting go and letting Patton lead him to one of the seats closest to the rails. He almost forgot why he was there for a moment or two, just allowing the familiar story of how Patton’s mother had cooked breakfast for him that morning, which was very rare, drown his thoughts and his emptiness. Just for a second. Even he deserved to relax every once in a while, right?

Apparently not because as soon as he decided to do so, a heavy gust of wind blew all of Patton’s worksheets away, and he ran after them. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where they blew and what happened after that.

 _Fuck_. How could he have relaxed? It’d been two damn years! Had he really not got the memo that he had to keep his guard up at all times?! It was just for one day (technically), and even though he had relived that day seven hundred and thirty times, he should have been able to remain observant and cautious enough for the entire twenty-four hours. He wanted a rest? A break? He could rest when that damned day was over.

Because Patton, being the diligent and well-mannered and studious and beautiful student he was, had ran after his stupid papers. He’d stretched down to try and pick them up and not noticed the train, how hadn’t he noticed a gigantic fucking train? And then, wham.

His body collapsed while his head was left to deal with the crushing weight of the train. Scarlet streamed across from platform to platform, as if mocking Virgil. As if trying to resemble a bridge to the Underworld he couldn’t cross. As if to say, ‘ _When are you going to give up and stop preventing the inevitable?_ ’ And to that, he would flip it the bird and turn back time all over again.

There were screams, like always. But then he felt a deep warmth land on his shoulder, unintentionally (or perhaps it was intentional) turning him round. He met the eyes of a man he’d never met. A man perhaps his age, maybe a year or two older, looking at him in horror and an overwhelming amount of concern. “Are you alright? You look like you were friends with him.”

_Were. Past tense._

He scowled, frustration of his failure and this man’s apparent certainty that he’d never get his friend back sinking into his skin and tainting his blood, boiling it until his eyes began to glow with a flame he’d never allow to dim. “I’ll be fine. I need to go now, so excuse me.”

The seemingly persistent man watched him, slack-jawed and wide-eyed as he hurried away to get somewhere private. He couldn’t very well reverse time in front of other people, could he? Though having other strangers believe that he could have murdered his friend wasn’t too promising either, but it wasn’t as if they’d remember any of this. Or would they? People tended to drift away from or avoid he and Patton as they walked down the street more often after his first death, but maybe it was more of a gut feeling than a memory.

And as he focused completely on the turning of the planet, the subtle movements of the cloud high above him, the humming of the people living around him, that fucking hand was on his shoulder again and he couldn’t stop it. There was no way he could stop the process after he’d started it and so, for the first time in two years, in seven hundred and thirty days, after seven hundred and thirty-one deaths, he woke up in his room and he wasn’t alone.


	2. and some scrapes will be scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil’s best friend has been dying for the past two years and he is the only one who can save him, but when a stranger catches him after his friend’s seven hundred and thirty-first death, he begins to question what he can do after two years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: strong language/swearing, major character death, stroke, ambulance mention, decapitation mention, death, abuse implied, neglect implied, and blood mention

“Where the hell am I?!”

If he’d known this guy was going to be so dramatic, he would have stayed in bed longer. Feigned sleep. But he couldn’t; he needed to save Patton. Again. “Look, it’s really complicated and I don’t have time to be catering to your every fucking need—”

Bristling, the stranger’s face reddened in both anger and embarrassment, and his hands tightened into fists at his sides. “I think knowing where I am is a perfectly reasonable need!”

“—but basically, you’re in my house. It’s the same day as when Patton died, but he’s alive, so don’t go feeling sorry for me.”

With a face much less angry and more confused than Virgil had ever seen in his life, the stranger swivelled to look around the bedroom of his new ‘companion’, taking in all of the band posters and television show posters stuck to the walls. Blue tack, or was it white tack? Did it really matter? Because it was only when his alarm blared at him that he realised how late it was.

“Shit.”

He immediately began running down the stairs, dutifully ignoring the screaming in the living room and the thundering steps of his unwanted guest.

He was going to be late and Patton was already going to be dead on the side of the curb somewhere. At the train station, probably. Patton would never leave Virgil to get the train by himself unless he absolutely had to. But maybe he wasn’t? Maybe he was alive and standing at the entrance, smiling nervously as strangers passed him by and gave him odd stares for wearing a skirt. Virgil would kick their asses if he had the time to do so and if he wasn’t absolutely terrified of people. Only God knows how he’d managed to sass that stranger back in his house.

And oh god. He’d taken someone else back in time. _Oh fuck_.

“Would you wait up?! Jesus, you’re fast for a little sprite, aren’t you?”

Did that dude seriously just insult his height when Virgil was literally the only one in the entire world who knew what was going on? He should’ve kept every bit of information to himself, but someone had seen. Someone had travelled back in time with him and there was no way around telling him everything.

But he could do it after he’d saved Patton, once and for all.

People side-stepped when they spotted his oddly familiar figure storming down the street with a not-so familiar face trotting next to him, somehow catching up despite how much of a ‘fast little sprite’ he was. Prick.

Once beside him, the man huffed out a breath and huffed a bit more when he realised that Virgil was not slowing down. Not for anything. “What’s going on? Who even are you?”

“I’ll explain properly later, but I’m Virgil and we’ve reversed time. Or, well, _I’ve_ reversed time. You didn’t do shit.”

“You say that like I was supposed to.”

Virgil shrugged. He didn’t have time for small talk. Or talking in general. Not when that familiar face began to slide into view through the blurriness of the long distance, he almost smiled. However, that guy wasn’t just going to let Virgil tell him that time travel was a thing that existed and then ignore him. “How?! You can reverse… _How?!_ ”

“Shut up, you idiot,” he hissed lowly so nobody could hear. “We can’t let anyone, especially Patton, know what’s happened. We clear?”

“Not even slightly!”

“Good. Be cool.”

Once again, a voice that never failed to remind Virgil that he _did_ belong somewhere and that it _wasn’t_ dangerous to be vulnerable sometimes and _so many other things_ called to him. “Virgil, over here!”

And again, those arms held him in a tight embrace before Patton’s brown eyes focused on the man lurking behind his best friend. “Oh, hi! I’m Patton! Virgil didn’t tell me you were coming.”

“Ah,” the man seemed to falter for a moment, sparing Virgil a quick glance before just barely holding back an eye roll and returning Patton’s smile. “I wanted to surprise him. I’m Roman, Virgil’s, uh… boyfriend?”

Patton giggled. “You don’t seem so sure of that, bud!”

Ignoring the damn near homicidal glare he was receiving from his ‘boyfriend’, Roman chuckled and held out a hand. “Yes, well, _Virge_ and I are keeping our relationship low-key for now. I didn’t know whether it was alright to tell you, but since you’re his best friend, I figured…”

He trailed off and shrugged, still grinning at a now ecstatic Patton Davies. “You should’ve told me you had a boyfriend sooner!”

Virgil was livid. Absolutely fucking _livid_. How was he going to explain his parents’ sudden lift on the ‘no boyfriend ban’ despite him being 20? He shot a look over at Roman that screamed a subtle threat of an extremely painful death before forcing a smile at his friend. “Well, you know what my parents are like. I guess I was just paranoid that they’d find out, y’know?”

Patton’s smile withers as he nods. “Yeah.”

Oh, how Virgil wished he had thrown that tall, dramatic bastard out of his bedroom window, but there was a strong possibility that he wouldn’t be able to undo it, so he had refrained from doing so. “So… you wanna head off? Roman,” he paused for a second and met his ‘boyfriend’s eyes with a look that immediately dismissed any questions he’d most likely have been desperate to ask. “You’re gonna ride the train with us, right? You said you wanted to hang out after my classes.”

Luckily, Roman seemed to catch his drift and nodded, somewhat awkwardly wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Yeah! I’ll just… you know, go to the library and do some work in the meantime.”

As they slowly make their way to the train station, Virgil’s spine as stiff and rigid as he thought it could possibly get, Patton furrowed his eyebrows, looking confused. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-one.”

Virgil thanked every deity in existence that the man was only a year older than him, and sagged in relief as Patton grinned, satisfied with his answer. “I noticed you said you were going to do work, are you still at college? Or do you have a job?”

With a smile that could make even the coldest of humans swoon, Roman explained that he’d finished university not too long ago and had started a full-time position at a local theatre, and the arm around Virgil’s shoulders seemed to tighten slightly. Perhaps he was getting more comfortable with their situation, whilst Virgil was plotting ways of severing the arm off of Roman’s shoulders without anyone noticing. He wasn’t coming up with any ideas.

But he couldn’t focus on his possible murder attempt.

The railway was coming up in front of them and Virgil had to find a way to take Patton’s worksheets without it seeming suspicious. They were in his bag, but when they sat down, he’d take them out and they’d be blown away. He glanced, hurried and frantic, between the two of them and Patton’s backpack. Yes, he could just ask if Patton wanted him to hold his papers for him, but would that seem like a normal thing to ask? What if he said no? He couldn’t force Patton to give him his papers. A dull thudding sent icy sparks down his spine, he was overthinking everything, he had been for years but having an audience increased the weight on his shoulders, pressing down on his lungs until his breaths shook past his parted lips.

Reaching into his bag, Patton pulled out the papers and Roman, still chatting heartily, met his eyes for a second, looking down at the sheets he’d been looking at a few seconds ago, before turning back to his new friend with a grin. “What kind of coursework do you do? Can I see?”

Patton, eyes brightening at the question, nodded and handed him his worksheets. They remained held tightly within Roman’s tanned fingers, not tight enough to be noticed, but enough to keep them stock still. Feigning interest, Roman asked Patton more about his degree and carefully squeezed Virgil’s hand before returning it to his lap. Virgil watched their interaction closely, taking notes whenever Roman or Patton would look his way or ask for his opinion. What was wrong with him? He’d been doing the same thing for two years; all he had to do was continue that routine until the end of the day. Then, he could relax.

As the train pulled up to the station, the three of them stepped on, finding a few empty seats somehow and sitting down. Roman shifted in his seat, fingers tapping his knees and feet constantly crossing and uncrossing. Virgil nudged him lightly. Their eyes met again and Virgil couldn’t quite decipher the emotion flashing through Roman’s dark gaze, but he could see he was nervous. He’d been fine before getting on the train, so what had happened?

“You okay?”

Roman cleared his throat and laughed weakly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just, uh, I was supposed to be meeting an ex to collect my things today.” His voice softened and his smile faltered. “But I’m definitely⏤definitely happier to be here with you.”

Gushing in the background, Patton bounced up and down in his seat, beaming brightly and telling Roman how sweet of a boyfriend he was. Virgil however, was thinking. If this guy was telling the truth, then why wasn’t he booking it out of there? Not only would he be missing out on receiving all of his possessions, but, if given the choice, wouldn’t he rather see an ex again rather than hang out with a time travelling stranger trying to prevent his best friend’s death? Virgil knew that if he could, he’d run right back to his ex to get away from his madness. To have Patton safe and sound, and telling him how it was ‘okay to lose feelings for Terry’. That it wasn’t Virgil’s fault.

“Oh,” Virgil’s voice was barely a whisper as he hesitantly rested his head on Roman’s shoulder, figuring that would be what a ‘boyfriend’ would do in that situation. “I’m sorry. I haven’t met them, but I’m sure they suck.”

There was a quick spark of energy as Roman barked out a laugh, patting his shoulder gently. “Thank you. She was a bit of a bitch, to be honest.”

“Do tell.”

Roman snorted and retold the story of his failed relationship with Susie Smart, the daughter of a family friend who he’d been dating for two years. A greedy, working class girl who’d been using him for his money since they’d met. Eventually, he’d gathered up the courage to break off their relationship, but she had insisted that he was just ‘confused’ or ‘drunk’ despite the fact that he hadn’t drank a drop of alcohol since he was nineteen. He’d left the house with a small duffle bag full of items, calling her the next day demanding that she give him his things. Unharmed.

Virgil winced. “Rough.”

Patton nodded in agreement. “Sorry to hear that, bud. When did you ask her to give you your stuff back?”

For a second, Roman paused, his mouth opening and then slamming shut again. He glanced over at Virgil and shrugged. “Around two months ago? In fact, it was around the same time Virgil and I got together.”

“Was that another reason why your relationship with Susie didn’t work?”

“Yes.”

Virgil could feel sweat dripping down the back of his neck, drenching the back of his shirt and tempting him to itch. But he sat frozen until Patton hummed in understanding and smiled, not his usual beaming grin, but his sad smile saved for times of sympathy. “It sucks you guys had to meet that way, but if relationships were easy, we’d all be married already!”

Not quite right, but Virgil could appreciate the sentiment.

“Glad I have you around, Pat. Always the optimist.”

A grin, a wink, and then a _smack_ as he hit his head on a metal pole used to help people standing up to stay balanced. Virgil gasped and brushed his fingers through Patton’s hair, checking for any blood or bumps. “Are you okay? Oh my God, that sounded bad!”

Patton laughed sheepishly and shrugged. “I’m fine,” he said and turned to look at Roman. “You’ll probably get the idea that I’m clumsy soon enough.”

Roman, though nervous, laughed along with him and offered a mint from a pack in his pocket. Not medication, but Virgil figured that at least it was nice. And Patton seemed to think so too, thanking him and moving to take it, but then shaking his head and retracting his arm.

“Never mind, I feel a bit sick.”

Heart suddenly beating a thousand miles a second, Virgil reached over to check his friend’s forehead to see if he had a fever, but found nothing. Though, there was a small bump on his head, but that was nothing to worry about. Not really. “Do you feel dizzy?”

Patton nodded softly. “A little. It’s going away though, so don’t worry.”

Virgil laughed. “If only I could.”

As he leaned his head back against his seat, he noticed Roman side-eyeing him, a frown tugging at his lips. Virgil furrowed his eyebrows and he furrowed them back, only leading them to glare at each other for a short while before turning back to look out of the window in front of them. At some point, he’d have to explain to that guy what the hell had happened and why they were suddenly back at the beginning of the day they’d met. He didn’t really want to. Explaining it would make it a lot more real. Because despite the blood and gore and agonising pain, he’d never told anyone anything, and dealing with it all alone helped to detach himself from it. Like it was just a bad movie. Or a nightmare.

But it wasn’t a nightmare. He’d figured that out a long time ago.

Roman offered the pair the most charming grin he could plaster. “There’s a cafe nearby, I’ll be fine.”

Cocking his head to the side, much like a confused puppy would do, Patton frowned. “I thought you were going to the library?”

“Ah, yeah, well, a cafe just seems a little more comfortable. I’ll have some background noise, you know?”

Patton nodded, face bursting with a grin and eyes still bright enough to blind anyone to the past two years of death. Even Roman, who was probably beginning to understand what was happening. Virgil smiled as Patton gave his ‘boyfriend’ a hug goodbye and stiffened as he gestured for Virgil to say his own goodbye.

Awkward and tense, he wrapped his arms loosely around Roman’s neck and struggled not to cringe as he felt strong arms loop around his waist in return. He leaned close to Roman’s ear and tightened his hold. _“I’ll explain everything after class. I’m sorry about all of this and thank you for playing along.”_

And, to finish it off, he pressed a fast and uncomfortable kiss to Roman’s cheek, pulling away quickly and returning to his wonderful spot by Patton’s side. Roman nodded to him and smiled, though even to Patton it must have looked strained.

The two of them headed off to class, Virgil barely restraining himself from grabbing Patton’s hand to keep him out of harm’s way. Somehow, they made it all the way to their Literature class before Patton demanded to know everything about his newfound boyfriend. Exactly the thing Virgil was dreading and definitely should have prepared for.

“Uh… As Roman said before, we met just a little bit before he and, uh, his ex girlfriend didn’t work out. After that, we just hung out a lot until we made it official.”

Vague and simple, but sticking to the damn story Roman had decided on earlier. Patton beamed, hands clasped together at his chest and eyes wide. “I’m so happy for you, Virge. You deserve someone like him.”

Virgil snorted, a smile twitching at his lips. “You barely know him.”

Patton shrugged. “I don’t know. I just have a feeling he’s someone really special. And I’m happy you have someone like that.”

“You’re someone like that too, you know.”

Smile widening and cheeks bursting with colour, Patton wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “That’s so sweet! But I meant someone special in more of a romantic sense.”

Virgil laughed, mostly at the idea of dating that obnoxiously charming stranger, but Patton just laughed along with him. Because that’s just what Patton did. He laughed.

During their extremely boring lecture, Virgil kept his eyes trained on his friend and only managed half a page of notes before leaving for his next seminar. Patton hadn’t noticed, but had continuously asked during their seminar whether he was okay or not. Virgil had given short, simple answers that Roman couldn’t in any way mess up. Surely, he couldn’t.

And yet, ten minutes after their last seminar of the day, he managed to.

“Virgil and I have been great! But our relationship is fairly new, so public affection still makes him nervous.”

Patton, still smiling but letting it go crooked with confusion, laughed quietly. “But, I thought you started dating a couple of months ago.”

Realising his mistake, Roman cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat at the cafe, desperately looking over at Virgil and pleading for him to save whatever mess he’d gotten them both into. “Oh, well, yes. What I meant was that it feels very recent and with the breakup still looming on the horizon, his… parents, and work, we haven’t really been given the chance to get settled. You know what I mean?”

A sad smile appeared on Patton’s face, causing Virgil to kick Roman under the table as punishment for it. He turned to his friend and smiled. “I’m fine, I swear. It can just be a little hard sometimes.”

Roman nodded his head vigorously, trying to dig himself out of the hole he’d buried himself in. Fortunately for him, a Patton trusted Virgil with anything and after being reassured everything was as okay as it had always been, smiled again. Their conversation went only uphill from there, switching from Virgil and Roman’s fake relationship to what they’d be ordering, going on until they’d reached a completely random and unrelated conversation.

The streets were close-to empty by the time they decided to head home. Virgil’s heart was drumming happily in his chest as he watched the sun sink below the houses in the far horizon. It was almost over. The day was only four hours away from being done and there had been no incidents that had been rough enough to prompt suspicion. A car had come close to knocking him over and they had avoided every creepy alleyway on the way home. It could work. It could be over forever.

Roman and Patton were talking about some movie Virgil had probably never seen before, but it was relaxing to hear them talk normally, as if there weren’t anything unusual about that day or about the seven-hundred-and-thirty-one days beforehand, as if Virgil hadn’t watched his best friend be decapitated only a few hours earlier, as if he and Roman really had been in a relationship for two months. As if their lives were completely ordinary,

“What do you think about it Virgil?”

Hearing Patton’s soft, familiar voice brought him out of his thoughts and back to the topic he hadn’t been listening to for the past few minutes. “Oh, what do you mean? Sorry, I kind of spaced out.”

Roman smiled and Patton laughed. It felt good.

Patton grinned, clutching the bag containing his uneaten sandwich. “We were talking about our f’vrourite books.”

And everything stopped.

The contents of Virgil’s stomach iced up and he barely noticed Roman’s eyes snapping between them. Placing a hand on his friend’s bicep, he watched Patton’s expression twist into one of befuddlement. “I… I d’no what hap..n’d there.”

“You did that before too… In our second lecture.”

“I’m sure ‘m fine.”

Roman, swallowing anxiously, fumbled in his pocket for his phone. “I think I should probably call nine-one-one anyway, just to be safe, you know? You’re probably fine.”

But when Patton attempted to smile to reassure them he was absolutely, positively fine, it was crooked. Just slumped down on the left side of his face. A second later, he was trying to drink from a bottle of water from his bag, but spewed it back up, unable to swallow properly. “Oh, uh, “ and that was when the panic started. “Guys… I ca⏤can…’t breathe? Sw’llow…?”

Virgil, vision blurring, hurried over to his friend’s side and breathed a sigh of relief as Roman spoke to the operator on the other end of the phone. “It’s going to be alright, just breathe for me, okay? In… and out.”

Doing as his friend said, Patton tried to will away the tears and return the side hug Virgil was giving him, but found that his arms had grown weak. He sobbed out a word neither Virgil nor Roman could make out, and gripped his chest, where his heart was ruthlessly pounding against his ribs. A mockery. Every beat was making a mockery of him. _You won’t have this for much longer. Make the most of this pain; you won’t get to feel it again._

“I don’t⏤” a sob cut off his sentence. “I don’t… w’nna die… Not like…”

He heaved and sobbed as his thoughts became jumbled in his head, like the ink was smudged. His words were written onto low-quality paper and the ink from his pen was smudging. And smudging. And smudging. Until his lips wouldn’t move when he wanted them to.

Virgil looked up at where Roman was almost yelling into the phone, tears glassing up his eyes. Probably not tears produced because he cared for Patton, not as much as a close family member or friend would anyway, but because he was scared. And sad because Patton was so _young_. They both knew what was happening, but it wasn’t clear as to whether Patton did. Could he?

The crying went quiet, but his shoulders were still shaking, jumping in time with his silent sobs. Roman knelt down in front of him, staying far enough away to give him air. Virgil met his eyes. They both knew.

“Don’t cry, Pat. The doctors are coming, you’d better not have an apple.”

A weak joke, but it got a watery laugh out of him. He shook his head and Virgil forced a laugh too. “Good. And what if there’s a cute doctor? You don’t want to meet him with smeared mascara and blotchy cheeks, do you?”

Another wheezing laugh. Patton shook his head again.

Without warning, he made a noise Virgil had never heard him make before. It was like the sound of a bird falling from a tree, except it wasn’t the falling it was afraid of; it just looked down and realised it had lost its wings. They were only stumps. Clipped and shredded and left to rot away on the ground of a nearby stream.

Patton struggled to raise his arms, shaking his head wildly and crying louder. _“H’rts! Hu… rts!”_

Still holding the phone up to his ear, Roman growled impatiently and stood, continuing to shout into the phone to the operator. After a moment, he turned back to them. “Don’t give him any food, or anything to drink, or any painkillers. They’re almost here.”

Virgil tried to smile, shaking Patton lightly. “Hear that? They’re almost here. Don’t go to sleep, okay? And try to make any noise you can, so I know you’re still awake.”

A nod and a quiet hum. No more screaming. The bird had landed.

It was kicking and twitching in time with Patton’s slow, irregular heartbeat.

Virgil inhaled, breath shaky. “This isn’t anything you can’t get through, okay? B⏤But I just want you to know how much you mean to me, okay? I love you more than anything and you know how difficult loving is for me,” he laughed, but it was quite obviously false. Patton huffed a noise that could have been a laugh anyway. “You’re smart and adorable and so, so much more kind than I could ever be. The only reason I’m okay is because you’re here, so⏤so you’ve got to be okay too, okay? I need to copy your coursework and text you at ungodly hours to rant. But even though it seems like I just go to you because you’re the only one I can talk to, it’s not. You listen. You just let me talk for hours on end and give me solid advice that I never follow because… the way you do things scares me. But I wish I could be brave enough to copy it like I copy your work. Please just don’t leave. Don’t go to sleep, okay? Talk to me; tell me how your day was, okay? How was it? Was it bad?”

Nothing.

Sirens blared in the distance.

Lights blinded him.

Patton fell into his lap. _Again_.


End file.
